


Day 2: Cuddling Somewhere

by chucksauce



Series: 30-Day OTP Challenge [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 30-Day OTP Challenge, Cuddling, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, it was too adorable not to do this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 20:58:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucksauce/pseuds/chucksauce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five different instances in which John and Sherlock cuddle. Also, each section is a 221B (221 words, the last word starts with B).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 2: Cuddling Somewhere

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn’t decide between several scenarios for cuddling, so I decided to do a “Five Times John and Sherlock Cuddled,” type thing. Aaaaand, because I’m a masochist, I’m also going to see if I can make each section a 221B (221 words, the last word begins with B).

**Fell asleep in a taxi**  

They had been three days, no sleep, trapped in a cramped B&B while on the case John would likely refer to as “The Musgrave Ritual” when he got around to writing it up for his blog. But they managed to find their man (in this case a scorned woman with a Sherlock-level appreciation of poisons and her own druidic circle to cover up the mess), and had even managed to be comped for the price of the cab fare back into London. When the conversation (mainly in the form of Sherlock siphoning the last of his post-case high away with final deductions and inferences about the whole affair, and John blinking profusely because, _damn it, three days without sleep_ ) finally hit a terminal lull about twenty minutes into the two-hour long ride, Sherlock used his peripheral vision to watch John nod off, ostensibly playing with his phone. 

The ex-Army doctor’s head drooped, and Sherlock smiled to himself. If memory served him right (and let’s be realistic here, it usually did so long as he didn’t delete it) then there would be a lovely sharp curve in the road ahead and--yes. John’s semiconscious form rode inertia all the way to its stopping point: his head on Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock smiled and continued typing on his Blackberry.

 

 

 **Fell asleep watching a movie**  

The state of Sherlock’s between-cases tantrums had been so foul lately that John was sure if he didn’t act soon, nothing short of John committing homicide would calm the man down. Still, the information John carried home with him that Tuesday had been hard-won: he now owed Mycroft a “minor favor not involving money,” all for the benefit of knowing Sherlock’s favorite movie. Or actually, television show. Surprisingly, it was a set of DVDs that John’d owned the entire time he’d lived at Baker Street: House, MD. 

That night John got a takeout from the Thai place around the corner and popped in the disc with his favorite episode, casually ignoring the man alternately sulking and pacing around, threatening to explode things. Eventually the dialogue caught Sherlock’s attention, and he was drawn to the couch like a feral cat to an unattended food tin. After a few episodes, John deemed Sherlock had been still long enough to slide his flatmate’s dinner into his line of sight, which the man picked up and ate silently, absorbed in the medical mystery. The takeout carton was returned to the table, empty. Sherlock blinked heavily, and turned to John. 

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” he asked, slumping over onto John’s shoulder. He let out a soft snore. 

John chuckled. “Thanks, Benadryl.”

 

 

 **For a case**  

When John got home from Tesco’s, he knew he was in trouble. 

 The flat was... clean. There was a small sheaf of notes on Sherlock’s side of the desk, but otherwise all the detritus from recent cases seemed to have been organized (God forbid, thrown away?!). Then he heard a bump from his bedroom. He hurriedly put away the shopping and went to find the source of the noise. 

Sherlock was in John’s room, wrangling two ballistics-gel dummies, one of which had fallen off the bed. Hence the thump. 

“I need to see them cuddling,” Sherlock murmured. “For a case.” 

“Right.” John chuckled. 

“Hm?” 

“We could cuddle, you know.” 

“What, how could that--?” 

“For the case.” 

“Oh, yes.” 

“Clear the bed.” 

Sherlock slipped off his shoes and climbed onto John’s bed, and stretched out on his back. “Now you’ll need to put your head on my chest, and your arm around my torso--like so. Good. Knee over mine, and there.” 

John tried his best to relax, and not be distracted by the warmth of his flatmate, or the solidness of his frame, or the smell of his cologne, which was barely noticeable, just enough to make one want to concentrate on the scent. 

“Excellent!” Sherlock bolted up. “It was definitely not Miss Scarlett with the spanner in the bedroom!**”

 

 

 **For an experiment**  

 _I propose an experiment - SH_  

 _Oh lord. - JW_  

 _Just hear me out, will you? - SH_  

 _This one is designed to be advantageous to you, actually. - SH_  

 _How so? - JW_  

 _I believe it will be in your great interest to hurry home from surgery, my dear Watson. - SH_  

 _And how is that an experiment? - JW_  

 _I hypothesize that if you come back to the flat at once, then you will be cuddled. - SH_  

 _And what would keep me from just waiting until I’m done at surgery? - JW_  

 _There will be positive sexual reinforcement beforehand, based on the following variables: 1.) Foreplay inversely proportionate to delay in arriving in bed. 2.) Exponentially increased, directly proportionate frottage/fellatio for the inconvenience you experience at work. - SH_  

 _This sounds promising.  - JW_  

_But I’m swamped today. - JW_

  _Dunno when I’ll be able to get out. - JW_  

 _[sent file: visualenticement.jpg] Does this change your mind? - SH_  

 _Bloody hell, Sherlock, my patient almost saw that one. - JW_  

 _Christ, apparently she did see it. She says, ‘Ta.’ - JW_  

 _[sent file: thisisnotforyourpatient.jpg] - SH_  

 _SHERLOCK. DAMN IT. - JW_  

 _Problem? - SH_  

 _If you call the helplessly erect state I find myself in behind my desk, thanks to your pictures, then YES. - JW_  

 _[sent file: pleasehurry.jpg] ;) -SH_  

 _OH FOR CHRIST’S SAKE - JW_  

 _I’m on my way - JW_  

 _DAMN IT- JW_  

_DOOR’S BOLTED! - JW***_

 

  

 **Because they like cuddling**  

On rare nights (the nights where the Venn Diagrams of Nothing To Do and Nowhere To Go overlap), the inhabitants of 221B will find themselves with as close to a routine as they’ll ever have: 

Sherlock will complain he is bored. This will cause John to suggest they go out for dinner. Then they disagree about dinner, and decide on staying in. Scrounging up whatever hasn’t been contaminated by experiments or neglect usually involves Nutella sandwiches and boiled potatoes. Not ideal, no, but stranger dinners have been eaten. 

John will turn on some crap telly, and Sherlock will fuss about it while fiddling with some experiment, or try to drown it out with violin. John pretends to be annoyed, types up his blog post, and then powers down his laptop. At this juncture, Sherlock ceases his activity, and he waits patiently for John to put aside his computer. Sherlock smiles, extends his hand. John takes it. 

In their bedroom, the light is switched off and the covers are turned down. John will curl up on his side--the left side, of course--and Sherlock will stretch out on the right. The combinations they invent (when it comes to intertwined body parts) are many, but invariably the puzzle comes together to form a cohesive image: the inhabitants of 221B--tangled, sleeping blissfully.

**Author's Note:**

> ** I know that “the bedroom” isn’t a room in Cluedo. But this is supposed to be a bit silly and “the ballroom” made no sense at all within the context of cuddling. And I needed a “B” word.  
> *** Yes, technically, the last word here is “JW,” but it’s close enough. :P
> 
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